It was a small group of us, five of us to be exact. The streets more barren as Chrismas came closer, the air finally resembling something near frigid, we shared in pizza and calzones, jokes and memories. Three of us were long ready to call it a semester, for two others a college career. We essentially held sole control of our corner of Leonardo's. For a moment I felt the urge to hop atop the table and reenact the diner scene in Swingers, but we were having an evening of contentment, and the subdued jubilation more appropriately displayed the relief and satisfaction of going home for the holidays.

My dad and I were standing in the mall when I sighed, "Ah, it's good to be home." This time he smiled and gave me some forced laughter. I had already uttered that statement a few times in the two days since I left Gainesville.